


Terror Collection

by Mavryk_Company



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Implications of Cannibalism, Spoilers, angst without comfort, mention of character deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mavryk_Company/pseuds/Mavryk_Company
Summary: A collection of Terror related oneshots, which mostly follows the canon. Will be updated with new chapters as I write them!





	Terror Collection

###### Chapter I: Cold

Summary: His thoughts were clouded, and his memory continued to fail him. But he could feel the biting wind, even now.

The wind billowed against the canvas tents, which had been arranged rather poorly. The fabric hung loosely and tilted to the side, a far cry from how they would stand proudly against the island stone. But here, and now, no one could find it within themselves to care. For God, Queen, and Country. The words of the late Sir John himself, on more than one occasion. Though, listening to the howling gusts outside, as he weakly wrapped his arms around himself, Edward couldn't help but laugh at the irony. There was no god here. He had abandoned them long ago. The country they held in such high regard, on a pedestal of gold, was thousands of miles away, and had probably forgotten about its men.

No, out here, in the cold, there was no morale. No hope. Only the cruel actions of desperate survival. Oh, and desperate were they, the remnants of an expedition long since failed. Whose leader had perished early on, leaving the rest of the men to live through these horrors. He thought about that often. Or at least, he thought he did. His mind was clouded and blurry, his thoughts flurried, and his memory was failing him.

But he concluded with a firm sigh that this was a common thought for him. That the other men, who had then suffered worse deaths, were actually granted mercy. Sir John had perished beneath the ice before the realization of their situation had fully surfaced. The men murdered by the creature, they had been spared the horrors of the Carnivale. The men there, including both Doctor MacDonald and Doctor Stanley, were not subjected to these arduous and painful walks.

Lieutenant Irving, though he had been murdered in cold blood, had died in an attempt to secure hope for the men. Jopson, the mere mention of the man's name sent a shiver of guilt up his spine, was left behind; but he had succumbed to sickness before he had a chance to lay witness to the scene that now lay before the Lieutenant. And the captain...the captain whom he had served under loyally for years, he did not have to see what Little had become.

He was isolated in the cold, staged apart from the other men. He could see them off in their tents, huddled together. After abandoning the ships, this had become a more common occurrence. He could still remember waking up one morning much closer to the other men in his tent than he had been when he had fallen asleep. He longed for that warmth now, the comfort of it. Anything but this awful cold.

His hands were numb, but he could still feel the uncomfortable tug of the chains that had been forced onto his face, an echo of pain where they had been buried into his skin. His ribs were sore from when another of the men had dragged him from his tent to kick at him wildly, before collapsing to the floor.

Yes, he thought, as he let his arms drop to his sides,  _The others had been granted mercy. Mercy from what their fellow men could do._ And he knew firsthand what men were capable of now. For he had dirtied his hands, his conscious, and his soul with the acts he had committed. With what lay closely outside of his tent, around the fire.

As he closed his eyes, to stop thinking, to ignore the cold that seeped in through the tears in the tent, Edward Little could only laugh weakly as the name of the vessel he was tasked with overseeing became the only word to describe everything he knew now.  _Terror._

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I know that no one knows the real reason why Edward has those chains on his face at the end of episode 10, but I saw an idea that the other men did it to him. I liked that idea, so I just kinda rolled with it in this fic!


End file.
